There's this thing that happens. You pull a hair... you don't even realize that you're doing it. Then you get that tingle, you get that itch. It's an exciting feeling. You know that if you could only pull ONE more it will be a good one. You can find a good one, you just need ONE more. So, you pull one more. Then one more, then...
Onemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemoreonemore.
People say "STOP. PULLING. OUT. YOUR. HAIR." They don't understand, they can't understand. As much as I hate it, I love the search for the perfect one. How you spend time, feeling around until you find it and once you have it you look at it/adore it/savor it. Moments later it's floating away towards the trash or floor and your hand is already searching for the next "perfect" one... and then there's the itch again. The hairs turn white from root damage.. even they've given up. They're going to be pulled out anyway so why bother producing pigment, right?
Just one more.
It's a shameful thing. Always having to make sure you've got your hair placed just so to hide the bald spots. Getting fake nails just so you can't grasp the hairs as well. Going to get a haircut and having the stylist say things like "This must be where you sleep on your head." or "Your hair must be very weak, it's all broken off in this spot." or comments from friends asking why your hair looks all "mullet-y" because it's so much shorter on top than elsewhere on your head or why a piece that's growing back sticks up all the time instead of laying down like the rest of your hair. I can't stop.. I can't stop. That itch WON'T go away and there's always another perfect one waiting and my hand goes to find it with or without my consent.
Why can't you just STOP. PULLING. OUT. YOUR. HAIR?
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